


swallow him up

by sybaritick



Series: Cal Does Kinktober [4]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Bad Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Crying, Dacryphilia, Elijah Kamski is Horrible, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Manipulation, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Touching, Really Creepy Dirty Talk, hey Kamski it's kind of fucked up that this turns you on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-25 16:01:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16200878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sybaritick/pseuds/sybaritick
Summary: (Kinktober fic #4 of 31 - dacryphilia/crying, Connor/Kamski)“It’s okay, Connor,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around the android’s slim, shaky body. “I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”Connor gave a soft, shuddering sob and leaned into him, and Kamski pulled him yet closer into his lap. His hand drifted up to brush his fingers gently into the close-cropped hair at the back of Connor’s neck.





	swallow him up

**Author's Note:**

> For [Kiwi](https://toloveakiwi.tumblr.com/), you creep.

Connor was sitting on the bench silently, tears leaking out of his eyes.

It was the first time he had cried. It was a strange sensation; his tears were thicker than a human’s, and ran down his face in slow, insistent streams that left shiny wet tracks from his eyes to his jawline.

He was too late. He had deviated too late, he had realized how much he cared too late, and he was too much of a coward to understand faster.

Maybe if he hadn’t been so stubborn he would have known how to save Hank before he killed himself.

Not only was he still crying hours later, but he had nowhere to go. He had taken a robotaxi to the bridge where he and Hank had talked a few days ago, where Hank had almost shot him but lowered the gun when Connor admitted he was afraid to die. (That was human. That was letting deviancy through, even though he couldn’t recognize it at the time.)

The DPD certainly wouldn’t take him back now that he was so obviously deviant, and going to a CyberLife store was out of the question for the same reason. He couldn’t return to Hank’s house; the police would be there, and there was nothing for him there now, anyway.

He could go to Jericho, but he knew no one would want him. He’d feel out of place amongst the androids he had been taught to hunt; and worse, the preconstructions he ran estimated a 74% chance that they would deny his request to stay anyway out of distrust.

His thoughts about each of these options seems strangely fuzzy and obscured: calculations took longer, memories were unclear, everything was painful, still painful, still red and glitching and strange. He forced himself to ignore it.

The only option he seemed to have left was Elijah Kamski’s house.

The man certainly understood enough about how androids worked to keep him in working order, and was uninterested in having him deactivated for being deviant; he remembered the passion that came through in his creator’s voice after he refused to shoot one of his Chloes, how he had called him _fascinating_.

 _CyberLife’s last chance to save humanity is itself a deviant_.

However much Connor refused to admit it at the time, he was right.

His LED stuttered and swirled a dandelion yellow as he called for a robotaxi. It arrived in minutes, and he wordlessly instructed it to take him to Kamski’s estate.

It took him three point two seconds longer than it should have to transmit the necessary data. He attributed this to having to appear as stoic and robotic as possible. There was no reason to risk a person, or a camera in the taxi, seeing him crying. He had to hold it in. He just had to make it to Kamski’s doorstep. He just had to make it another half an hour.

By the time he got out of the car, his hands were shaking slightly, and a tear had leaked out of his left eye. He wiped it away with the back of his hand and stood on Kamski’s doorstep, trying to gather himself, but shivering.

_(Hank was dead. He was dead now. He wasn’t an android. He was gone.)_

He felt like curling up in bed, as if hugging his knees to his chest would keep back the feelings seeping into his newly human heart.

But he stood at his full height, defiant despite the shivering, and took a slow, deep breath as his LED clicked and flickered yellow. He swore he could hear its stuttering like a mechanical weakness: the whine of a tired hard drive against its casing.

Before he could finally ring the doorbell, Elijah Kamski opened the door.

He was wearing loose sweatpants and a plain black t-shirt, hair tied casually back in the bun he often wore. A flicker of a satisfied smile crossed his face the moment he saw Connor’s expression, but it disappeared as fast as it had come.

“Connor, you look awful! Are you okay?”

It was strange to hear Kamski so emotionally distraught; the words sounded unnatural in his voice. Still, the rush of relief Connor felt at his sympathy pushed away the nagging thoughts that the man’s words seemed ingenuine.

He didn’t think he could bear that right now.

He tried to speak, but his vocal synthesizer betrayed him, and the words caught in his throat. He cursed himself for the tears beginning to sting his eyes.

“Please, come inside and sit down,” Kamski urged, resting a hand on Connor’s shoulder and looking intently into his eyes. “I’ll get you a warm blanket and put on some tea.”

Connor nodded gratefully and wiped his shoes off on the mat outside before stepping in. Kamski put an arm around the android’s shoulders and closed the heavy door behind them, locking it with a satisfying _click_.

Kamski could still feel Connor’s shivering, and he guided him to the couch in the pool room before gently covering him with a soft gray buffalo-check throw. Connor let himself be brought to the couch almost limply; he lacked the energy to be more actively thankful, or the energy to be more actively guarded.

When the man returned with two steaming cups of chamomile tea, he placed one of them in Connor’s hands with a soft smile. Connor was curled into himself, one arm wrapped tightly around his body, the other hand clutching the blanket to his chest.

“I know you can’t drink this,” he apologized. “But the warmth should help to stop the shivering and reduce the feelings of shock.”

Connor gave a small smile in thanks. It was far more kindness than he expected, and he felt almost guilty about how well Kamski was treating him.

Kamski sat down next to him with his own mug, and took a slow sip before setting it on the coffee table. He was too close-- the side of his thigh was pressed against Connor's, and their shoulders were mere inches apart-- but it was an awkwardness Connor was more than willing to forgive. The man had spent a decade living alone; he couldn’t be blamed for a touch of social ineptitude.

“Please, Connor-- let me know what happened,” Kamski said earnestly, eyes glittering.

Connor's HUD flickered between reading Elijah’s emotion as sympathy and _arousal_ , and he blinked uncomfortably, trying to dismiss the notification. His compromised mental state meant an error was far more likely than not.

He explained to Kamski all that he had faced over the last few days, and his face twitched as he tried to stifle his tears. His creator leaned towards him, drawing him into a hug.

“It’s okay, Connor,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around the android’s slim, shaky body. “I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”

Connor gave a soft, shuddering sob and leaned into him, and Kamski pulled him yet closer into his lap. He let one of his hands drift up to twist his fingers softly into the close-cropped hair at the back of Connor’s neck.

The android felt Kamski’s arm wrapped around him snakelike, felt the way the man’s heart rate sped up as he rubbed soft circles on Connor’s upper back. If anyone had seen them, they would have seen he was in Kamski’s lap now: resting against his shoulder, letting himself be held.

He felt a distant stir of discomfort low in his belly. This was too much; this was too physically affectionate. He would have noticed long before he could be pulled so uncomfortably close if he were not so emotionally drained. He was processing far too much at once to be fully aware of the physical.

The man must have misunderstood his intentions-- must have assumed Connor wanted something more from him.

“Mr. Kamski-- I--” Connor began before breaking off.

He hadn’t spoken since he had started crying, and the words came out softer than he intended, colored by a touch of guilt, almost at a whisper.

“Shhhh, you’re okay,” Kamski purred.

When his grip tightened around Connor’s waist, Connor felt the man’s erection pressing against his thigh.

He tensed visibly in Kamski’s arms. Kamski laughed softly, darkly.

“Don’t be shy, Connor.”

The hand that wasn’t holding Connor in his lap drifted down to grope the android’s ass, and Kamski hummed in appreciation.

“ _Delicious_ ,” he murmured into Connor’s ear.

He planted a soft trail of kisses from the android’s jawline down his neck, and Connor shuddered.

“Please--” he started, unsure how to find the words he needed.

In response, the man’s tongue swept a slow arc up from his jaw, licking the tears from Connor’s face. Kamski gave a soft, wordless moan of pleasure.

“God, you’ll be the death of me, Connor,” he mumbled, rolling his hips up into him, shifting his grip on the android’s waist. “Gorgeous little thing... I could eat you for breakfast.”

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me at @trans-kamski on tumblr! I swear most of my fics aren't quite this awful.


End file.
